"My lord, may I inquire what plagues you?
A kneeling Shilam asked of the figure hidden in the black fog, from his grasped hand emitted golden light of such opposite power that Shilam almost quivered. His lord held an interesting... thing, in his hand. Something he was desperately clinging on too, something that was both the source of shadows, and an enemy in some sense.
It had been a while, since he had received a response, the Warden of the Forgotten had abandoned his duty. His unyielding master had yielded, and succumbed to lethargy.
Although the Realm of Shadows would perform its purpose well even if its master had succumbed to such a degree, it was still a sad sight to see for Shilam. After all, the one he idolized was gone, replaced by nothing but a corpse who held desperately to some golden light.
